The man was crying but couldn't remember starting crying, or even what there was to cry about.
He tried to take stock of what was happening and where he was; but everything was muddled and slow moving.
The tears had stopped.
“What's going on?” he attempted to wonder out loud. To his surprise it came out as more of an extended groan, than actual words.
Realizing his chest was far to tight, his hands quickly checked for something wrong, but found nothing. Taking a deep breath the man realized he just needed to relax. For some reason he had woken up tense. Well no wonder! He was sitting on a metal rocking chair?!
When had this happened?
Quietly taking stock of his surroundings the man slowed his breathing to remain calm.
Thoughts are coming very slowly, he feels as if he is underwater.
He was sitting on a rocking chair, in a dark metal room full of boxes. There was one light, resting on a storage rack to his left.
“I'll worry about that later. At least the light is working.” the man thought to himself.
The boxes. There are so many boxes. It's not even that large of a room, but it is full of so many differently shaped boxes. Further back from the boxes are wooden crates, tall, about the size and shape of a refrigerator. One is open near him with a step ladder leading to the opening in the top.
The man suddenly realizes something...but is unsure of what! Something is wrong, but his slowed senses aren't letting much through. Working through the onset of a headache, the realization comes to him. Where is the door? Well it must be behind him, if it's not in front of him.
Deciding its finally time to get up, he braces himself, feeling the headache worsen and stands.
Headache, very dry mouth and sore body. If it wasn't for the fact he didn't know where he was, this could just be the end to a crazy night at the bar. But he didn't go to bars.
Slowly turning around, he saw the rocking chair he had been in. Strange, its made of metal, it didn't feel like it.
Looking up from the chair, there was no door where he thought there should be one. It wasn't even to his left or right.
Stunned and confused, the man stood there with his hand on the back of the rocking chair, as if that would do any good if he lost his balance or fell. Unsure of what to do next, he shuffles to the back wall and pushes on it, right in the middle, where a door might be. It doesn't budge, so he tries to push and knock on all of the exposed walls. To no avail, of course. He gets the same muted 'gong' sound wherever he knocks and none of the walls budge to his push.
The man slumps back in the rocking chair after scanning the far wall where the crates are, just in case a door is peeking through, which it isn't.
“Why is there no door?” the man wonders quietly. How is there no door is his next thought.
The sluggishness of his thoughts is slowly abating. The headache is still there, screaming protest at the front of his skull.
The man clears his throat loudly, sits up straight and says loudly. “Where is th...”
PAIN!
Instantly regretting speaking, he held his hands over his eyes and forehead, where the pain is concentrated. Trying not to scream as his eyes threaten to explode from his skull!
As the pain calms down, he smiles to himself. He must have forgotten that metal rooms echo so damn much.
Taking a deep breath the man takes his hands off his face to find nothing has changed at all, he just feels more sick to his stomach than before. Feeling more than a little desperate, the man rips open the nearest box, about the size of a computer tower, and finds it full of bandages....bandages? Why bandages? Are they all full of them?
After tearing open a few other boxes, also full of bandages, the man decides to try to pry open one of the crates. He takes the step ladder from the open crate (about half full of boxes, probably more bandages!) and clears a path to the nearest un opened crate, gets in a position to pull at the lid and pulls, hard.
The lid flings off and slams into the wall. It wasn't secured at all!?
He leans over, trying not to laugh out loud or lose his balance. At least the room is so full of bandages, he yells in his own mind!
The man jumps violently as there is a sudden grating sound of metal on metal! So loud, but gone just as fast as it came. Quickly looking around, he could see nothing wrong.
Grimacing he pushes his hand against the ragged tear in his left arm, trying not to shake too much from the adrenaline.
“Stupid ass crate”, he mutters out loud while stepping off of the step ladder. “Stupid ass sound.”
As if being angry will make the situation go away.
He sits in the rocking chair with a box of bandages in front of him and starts getting it out of its plastic wrappings.
Taking a glance at the cut, he realizes it's isn't actually that bad. Very long, nearly the length of his forearm, but not very deep. Gross either way.
Something is bugging him though, a slight nagging at his thoughts...why didn't the grating sound echo? Unless he blanked it out for some reason, there should have been way more sound than just the one sound.
Unable to work it out, he finishes wrapping his arm in the gauze and rests it on his leg. Of course, there's nothing to make sure it stays on his arm. There was no tape in the bag. He sighs audibly and begins digging through the box.
There was something else wrong, that nagging in his mind was still there. But he couldn't place it this time. Something was just...wrong. Different maybe.
He pulls another clear plastic bag out of the box, this one filled with a darker material, almost cloth-like. Upon opening the package, several small pieces of metal fall out onto the floor, only to be ignored. The cloth is soft, and incredibly stretchy, the man decides to wrap is arm in it and tie the two ends together to hold it all in place.
He stands up and moves his arm around to make sure the binding stays in place, groaning at the pain. At least his head doesn't hurt as badly now.
Turning and glaring at the crates, he realizes he still needs to check what was in the one he opened and check the others. He's getting seriously hungry, the adrenaline from the scare has taken most of his energy.
Uselessly sticking his tongue out at the crates, he leans on the back of the rocking chair and receives a jolt of surprise. The rocking chair didn't budge. It didn't rock!
Looking down at its 'legs' he sees they aren't welded or otherwise stuck to the spot, but an experimental push does absolutely nothing. It's made of metal, and probably heavy, but should still move!
The man couldn't work out why he hadn't noticed the lack of movement before.
Confused, and slightly disturbed, the man absently makes his way toward the open crate. Using some left over gauze to mop up the small amounts of blood on the floor on his way.
He climbs the step ladder and opens the top box, and bandages. The contents aren't too much of a surprise. Not a surprise at all really. There are dozens of boxes in the room filled with bandages and at least 10 crates mostly up against the far wall. They all will, most likely, have bandages in them too.
Trying not to think about it too much, but also trying to ignore the hunger, he starts clearing boxes to make a path to the next crate.
The nagging is back. Worse than before, like he had forgotten something important. Something is really wrong and the man just can't get it out of his mind.
But without anything to figure out, all he can do is let his mind bug him.
Nearly to the next crate the man realizes he's going to need a light. The light on the shelf only goes so far where it's at.
Turning around to inspect the light, the man's breath catches in his throat and chills cover his body. The rocking chair...when was it facing away from the boxes!?
Stunned into inaction, the man stood there gawking at the rocking chair.
Normally a chair having been moved wouldn't be such a big deal. But he was in an enclosed room, with no door, AND the damn thing had refused to move when he pushed it earlier!
The man suddenly didn't trust the room, or anything really. Before he had had no reason to think anything in the room wasn't what it seemed to be. But now a heavy, metal chair had spun 180 degrees without him even realizing exactly when or how it happened!
He felt like an idiot. Unless it just now happened, how could he have not noticed the chair wasn't facing the right way. But it can't have just happened, it had to have been when the loud scraping sound was.
Coming to this realization didn't make him feel any better. It solved nothing and brought up more questions.
Still stubbornly standing exactly where he was, the man slowed his breathing and closed his eyes, focusing everything on his hearing.
There MUST be something. Some machinery, another person in the room; anything!?
But no. All he could here was his blood rushing through his veins and a slight ringing that must be coming from his own ears.
Has this room always been this deafeningly quiet!?
The ringing increases in volume.
Then increases more.
And more.
What is going on? The man can't seem to get his heart to slow down. He is breathing heavy and fast!
He's starting to panic! Why? What is doing this to him?
When did it start?
Is it going to end?
The man opens his eyes suddenly. He's laying face first on the ground. What the hell was that about?
Wondering how long he was out, he slowly sits up. He can't stop his extremities from shaking violently. He's slowly starving. The man can barely remember the last time he ate. Fast food. What he wouldn't give for more.
Coughing a few times, the man listens again. He can still hear his heart beating and the ringing. But at least the ringing isn't trying to take his life away from him.
The room sounds strangely muted, despite it being made of metal.
Glancing around the room the man is shocked to see the rocking chair is facing the right way again!
Too hungry and tired to really care about this, the man musters his strength and stands.
He decides to continue searching the crates. Its all he can do to hope there is some kind of food in one of them. Otherwise, all he has to eat are bandages and cardboard!
Trying to not think about dehydration the man retrieves the light from the storage rack. Its very strange looking. All it is is a light bulb screwed into what looks like a fixture for a lamp. No battery area, or anything aside from the bulb and fixture.
What in this place isn't a mystery?
Making his way back to the crates, he decides to just throw all the boxes rather than stack them neatly. He doesn't care about anything now. He just needs to find out if its time to start eating boxes.
Bandages.
Bandages!
Bandages!!
What kind of place needs so many fucking bandages!?
Opening yet another crate, and box with bandages the man takes the box he just opened and throws it with a yell into all the other boxes. Quickly losing control of his anger the man takes box after box out and just throws it!
What is going on? Where is he? Why the hell is the room so muted to all his anger!?
Running out of energy and hope the man heaves at another box, only to find this one much heavier than the others.
Gasping for breath and shaking far worse than before the outburst, the man gets a good hold on the box and lifts it to the edge of the crate.
Upon opening it the man nearly cries with happiness. MREs. Meals, Ready-to-Eat.
A full box of them.
The full implication of why there was military “meals” in this place was mostly lost on the man. He spared it a thought while climbing down the ladder with the box, but was mostly worried about how to cook them. Or if you even cook them. He wasn't sure.
Shaking pretty hard the man settled into the chair, carefully leaning back should it actually move, and went about ripping the rest of the box open to get at the food.
Discord
Light Style